Magus Pestis
by DramioneInLove
Summary: When a mysterious, deadly, highly contagious illness spreads through Hogwarts like wildfire, the school is put on lockdown so that the disease may die out inside the castle instead of contaminating the rest of the world. It's a death sentence, and as students and staff begin dying, time's ticking for the survivors to find a cure...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there everyone!**

 **So, I'm back with a new English fic. Now, I see you coming, and don't worry, Mercury is still going to be published. I'm just experiencing a bit of writer's block at the moment, but I don't want to hurry things- I want Mercury to be finished correctly, and I don't want to do something to the story that I'd regret. After which I'll immediately take it down to begin writing version 2.0 because let's be honest, the first chapters seem to be written by a four-year-old.**

 **Anyway, back to the new fic. It's rated M for lemons, (main) character death, profanity, violence and it's not going to be pretty or light-hearted. But it does have a happy ending (at least for our main couple) because I'm a sucker for happy endings, especially if I've tortured the characters during the fic. Please keep in mind that the rythm of publication will vary- I work in the catering industry in a highly touristic area, and summer season is waiting just down the road to hit me in the face with a baseball bat and 80 hours working weeks.**

 **...**

 **Rating: M (see above)**

 **Setting: Hogwarts, 7th year. In this fic, the Second Wizarding War never happened, as Voldemort was destroyed by Harry Potter when he was a baby. As such, those who died during the first war (Harry's parents, etc) are well and truly gone, but since the second war never happened, no-one died after Voldemort's death as a result of dark forces, meaning that characters such as Sirius or Dumbledore are alive. Our heroes are back to school for a final year, after a rather peaceful education.**

 **Main pairings are: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Blaise Zabini/Pansy Parkinson, Seamus Finnegan/Lavender Brown, Ronald Weasley/Daphne Greengrass.**

 **Disclaimer: Please abide that everything belongs to JKR and her affiliates such as Warner Bros, I'm just here to have fun. With a fic about a deadly disease. Yeah. Remind me to correct my disclaimer later.**

 **NB: "Magus": latin for wizard/witch, "Pestis": latin for disease/epidemic.**

 **…...**

 **…...**

 **MAGUS PESTIS**

 **When a mysterious, deadly, highly contagious illness spreads through Hogwarts like wildfire, the school is put on lockdown so that the disease may die out inside the castle instead of contaminating the rest of the world. It's a death sentence, and as students and staff begin dying, time's ticking for the survivors to find a cure...**

 **…...**

 **CHAPTER 1.**

"We've seen this before, Albus."

Albus Dumbledore raised his bright blue eyes over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, staring at the magical creature in front of him. With a pointed nod, he asked sharply,

"Have we, Maeesh? I was under the impression that if such had been the case, I would have been informed, as I highly doubt that you would willingly approach the Ministry with any matter, never mind one so...delicate."

The Headmaster of Hogwarts' eyes twinkled knowingly, but the other one was not impressed. He glowered at Albus, his thick, algae-like, green hair falling upon his shoulders, his grey skin ripped and scarred as he bobbed, waist-deep, in the dark expanse of water. Maeesh was the King of the Selkie Merfolk of the Black Lake, and as such, his life was one of hardship. Many a danger lurked under the calm surface of the lake, and for the merman to seek Albus' help was telling, as he rarely communicated with the outside world- most magical creatures were, not without reason, wary of the human species. Even if Maeesh respected Albus Dumbledore to some extent- the elder wizard did, after all, speak Mermish, the unique language of his people- the King's friendship would never be obtained by the likes of mankind.

"We have no books nor ink to write the memory of our people," Maeesh hissed. "For we keep our memories like precious jewels." He proudly tapped his webbed fingers against the pebble necklace adorning his throat, as if the stones were diamonds of the finest cut. "We remember. Through tale and song, we remember stories of ages ago, of times before time, of when the Black Lake was surrounded by the heather moorlands, before two witches and two wizards built a castle near our home."

Albus respectfully inclined his head.

"I admire the ways of your people, Maeesh. However, as you so kindly reminded me, we humans have no such memory of this happening before."

The King swam a little closer, worry etched on his hideous face.

"It has happened twice before," he claimed. "Although we know not why or how. It happened in the time before time, before your forefathers built the castle. It has never happened since- we thought ourselves protected to some extent by your walls."

Albus Dumbledore frowned, clasping his gnarly hands on his stomach.

"You seem persuaded that this is illness came from elsewhere. Why is that?"

"For many tides, our people have remained unaffected by such a disease," Maeesh nodded. "Hundreds of generations have come and gone without the illness rearing its ugly head. However, in a little under three months, it has returned, and I have lost over three hundred of my kin- nearly a third of my people, and dozens more are contaminated. I have conferred with the Centaurs over this matter and they claim that the stars have announced a great disaster upon the magical world, although they know not how many merfolk shall perish. The last two diseases near wiped our kin out entirely, and I fear that such will happen again this time."

There was a long silence as the King and the Headmaster mulled their individual thoughts. Behind them, Hogwarts towered proudly, and only the water lapping the shore was any evidence of movement in the horizon.

"I will need to inform the Ministry of such a matter, Maeesh," Albus finally sighed, resigned. "I am afraid that their intervention may prove a necessity. Alone, there is little I can do."

Maeesh's brow furrowed, but to the wizard's surprise, he did not vividly protest such a course of action.

"So be it," the King bowed his head. "My youngest, most beautiful wife, the Queen Aeel, passed this morning, and with her, our two babes. My other wives and children huddle in fear, and I cannot say I am able to protect them."

There was a defeated sadness to his traits, but Albus knew better than to offer his sympathy. The merman would take it as an insult. Instead, he bowed to the King.

"I shall return, King Maeesh, and we shall settle this matter," he vowed.

"Thank you, Albus Dumbledore," Maeesh returned, slowly sinking back into the murky depths. "Thank you..."

…

The train puffed merrily in the sparkling September sunlight, and Hermione breathed in the lively atmosphere of Platform 9 ¾ as she pushed her luggage trolley through the dense crowd, her amber eyes scanning the faces. She recognized a few, giving a jolly wave as people greeted her from afar, too busy bidding their families goodbye to come see her for now. She always felt a slight tug to her heart in such moments: her own parents would never be able to see the Hogwarts Express nor step through the barrier to the secret platform. However, she pushed those thoughts to the side, ignoring Crookshanks who, huddled in his wicker basket, hissed and sulked- the fat half-cat half-Kneazle hated being cooped up. A flash of red caught her attention, and her head snapped to the side as she noticed, with a giggle, Molly Weasley smothering her daughter with a death hug as Ginny Weasley's arms whirled around almost cartoonishly. Hermione rectified her path and pushed through to the bunch of Weasleys and Harry, who was snickering behind his girlfriend's back at her efforts to escape her mother's grasp.

"...go of me, Mum, I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm not off to be sacrificed to some ancient gods!"

Luckily for Ginny, Molly noticed Hermione and suddenly let go of her to greet the young brunette with the same hug she had just forced upon her daughter. Ginny tenderly felt up her ribs, and grinned mockingly at her best female friend as Hermione was engulfed in Molly's arms.

"Mum," Ronald Weasley's amused voice interrupted, "let go of her before she dies."

Molly pulled back from Hermione, kind brown eyes damp, and waved a threatening and very wet handkerchief in her youngest son's face.

"Now you be careful, Ronald Bilius Weasley," she exclaimed. "I don't want to hear anything about your behaviour this year, do you hear me! If I have to send one single Howler, just one, I swear to Merlin I shall deliver it myself, along with my boot to your backside!"

Ron looked positively green at the idea of his mother marching into Hogwarts to deal with him personally, and Hermione giggled softly as she greeted each Weasley with a hug- Ginny first, then the twins, the Bill. Charlie was in Romania and Arthur and Percy had been called in early to the Ministry, as usual. Finally, she hugged Harry and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Her best friend responded with a peck to her forehead, and they tuned out Molly's threats to Ron.

"You look well-rested," Hermione smiled. "I take it you spent all summer at the Burrow?"

Harry gave her a lopsided grin.

"Did not, too. Spent some time at 12, Grimmauld Place. Then Mrs Weasley decided that she couldn't have me spending my entire holidays in a house filled with dark artefacts and bundled Padfoot and I off to the Burrow."

"Did you even see the Dursleys at all?"

"I might have seen them," Harry answered evasively. "Upon arriving at King's Cross at the beginning of summer. Might've given them a nod and a wave. And then, I might've seen a great looking black dog and decided to follow him instead..."

Hermione shook her head, laughing.

"Don't tell me you stood them up, Harry!"

"Bet Uncle Vernon appreciated to drive all the way back to Little Whinging for nothing," Harry confirmed, a devilish glint to his emerald eyes. "In my defence, I did turn seventeen recently and sent them a letter thanking them and telling them I wouldn't be back. I also joined some money as payment for them feeding me during all these years, even though it wasn't much food, all in all."

Something in his story made Hermione frown.

"Money? But Harry..."

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Bet Uncle Vernon is going to have a lot of fun trying to convert those Gallions to pounds in a Muggle bank. Pity- it is quite a tidy sum."

Hermione couldn't help it. The payback after so many years of ill treatment in the hands of the Dursleys, and Harry's wicked smirk, made her double over laughing. The Boy Who Lived joined her and a second later, Ron, red in the face, was at their side, bending his lanky body over to kiss Hermione's cheek. She returned the gesture with a smile. After Ron's short-lived idylle with Lavender Brown, her feelings for the wizard had waned, and although the redhead had tried to catch her interest afterwards, she'd told him as much. Ron had shown a surprising amount of tact in his response and, if Hermione sometimes caught his lingering, longing glances, he respected her boundaries and their solid friendship. The young witch was pleased to notice that the wanting gazes seemed to fade over time.

The train puffed a cloud of white smoke into the clear blue sky and Ginny appeared, grabbing her boyfriend's hand with a tug.

"Quick," she muttered to them, "let's get on that damned train before Mum starts wailing again."

They followed her towards the train, waving at the remaining Weasleys, and quickly found a carriage occupied by only Neville and Luna, who were holding each other's hands and muttering fondly. Exchanging pleasantries, the four Gryffondors sat down, waving a final time to the family on the platform as the Hogwarts Express slowly pulled out of King's Cross and into the quaint English countryside.

…

The first year students were all huddled together as the stern-looking Professor McGonagall called out their names individually, inviting them to sit on the small stool in front of her as she set the Sorting Hat on their heads. Draco Malfoy's fingers rapped against the polished surface of the Slytherin table as he waited, bored as yet another student joined Hufflepuff- Merlin, it seemed as though this year's new students were a bunch of happy little sunflowers. His father was right, the younger generations were getting more and more idiotic- the stupid little brats even looked happy to be smothered in flashy yellow. Sitting opposite him, riding the bench as though it was a Thestral, a tall, dark wizard with stunning features sighed.

"They look like a bunch of morons," he grunted in a bored tone as yet another little girl skipped happily off to the Hufflepuff table which erupted in thunderous applause.

"They surely are a bunch of morons, Blaise, if they're sorted there in the first place," a gorgeous black-haired witch to Blaise Zabini's right snorted and Draco nodded in appreciation. "Merlin, I'm hungry," she muttered, staring at her plate as though food would magically appear there through sheer will.

"Oh Merlin, Pansy," Blaise groaned. "Stop that. Very unladylike. You sound like Weasley."

Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated her knife before staring at Blaise's neck. The handsome wizard caught her meaning as he slid backwards slowly. Draco tore his mercury eyes away from their antics as the last couple of students ("Simberly, Jane- Hufflepuff!" and "Yaxley, Tom- Slytherin!") were sorted and finally, the feast came into being.

"Look at Potty over there," he heard Pansy mutter. "And the Weasel King, and that little Mudbitch Granger."

"Foul," Blaise agreed, eyeing the trio.

"Don't speak about your mother that way, Zabini," Pansy tutted, never one to miss an occasion to antagonize her fellow Slytherin. Draco rolled his eyes as they began bickering: those two really needed to do something about the sexual tension oozing between them. It was getting old, and he really couldn't fathom why Blaise and Pansy- great friends up until last year- seemed to hate each other since last Christmas. However, he stared in the direction his best female friend had indicated, chewing on a mouthful of peppered duck sausage thoughtfully. The two youngest redhead siblings were chatting with each other- more like arguing, he mused, as he saw the Weaslette's brow crease and red infuse her cheeks. He could only hope that the Weasel King pushed her buttons too hard and she hexed him: it would be greatly entertaining to see the idiot vomit slugs again, and with some luck Gryffindor would lose points and the two would get detention. His eyes slid to Harry Potter, who was in deep conversation with Neville Longbottom, and he snarled, fists clenching. He just couldn't help it: Potter could wander into a room and Draco would instantly tense up. The damn boy was just a murder waiting to happen.

Then a mass of unruly curls caught his eye and his hard gaze turned to that stuck-up bookworm, Hermione Granger. Merlin, was she really human? He was under the impression that the teacher's pet was none other than Medusa in disguise and that she snuck around petrifying people with that hair of hers in her spare time. His hand clenched around his fork as he imagined shoving it into her throat. Her mere existence was exasperating- it shouldn't be possible to hate a human being this much, but here he was.

As if she sensed his eyes burning into her, Granger raised her head and her own amber eyes caught his. Draco felt himself slightly put off by the unique colour- they were slightly unsettling, although he couldn't deny that the colour was stunning. If they weren't the Mudblood's, he'd be happy to stare into those eyes forever. Besides, it wasn't as though his own mercury eyes were common. He frowned in disgust at the splattering of freckles on her nose- Merlin, didn't she lose those when she came into puberty as most kids did?- and the visible weakness of her traits. Although it may be because of her gigantic hair, which seemed to be devouring her energy. He swore he saw a curl or two crackle with magic. The swot was glaring at him as though the mere thought of being in the same room as him made her lose her appetite- a thought he couldn't help but feel offended at. Stupid Mudblood wouldn't know her betters even if they hit her in the face with Hogwarts, A History.

Maybe he should try that someday.

Granger rolled her eyes and turned to mutter something to the She-Weasel, and he felt slightly put out that his efforts at intimidating her had all amounted to nothing. Frowning, his eyes were attracted to the teacher's table as Albus Dumbledore advanced to speak.

"Well that was a most delightful meal," the Headmaster declared enthousiastically, and Draco raised his eyes. Merlin, was the old fool a bore. Soon, he'd be demanding that the students personally thank the House Elves in the kitchens for whipping up their food. "Now, before I let you all off to your dorms, I have a little information to impart to you all."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Blaise muttered, stretching. "The Forbidden Forest is off-limits and so are all Weasley products."

"The Forbidden Forest is entirely off-limits," Dumbledore declared, "as are all Weasley's Whizarding Wheezes products, the full list of which can be found in Mr Filch's office."

The elder wizard glanced at Blaise, blue eyes twinkling, and the dark-skinned wizard swore under his breath. It wasn't the first time the Headmaster seemed to be omnipresent.

"...this year, it will be demanded of students and staff alike that no-one approaches the Black Lake either," Dumbledore rambled on. "No bathing will be allowed until further notice. We have good reason to believe that great danger lurks beneath the water's surface, a danger that was not present before." He stared at the students, letting his point sink in, before giving a satisfied nod. "I bid you all a very good first night at Hogwarts!"

The prefects stood, calling their newest students out to follow them, and slowly, the crowd exited the Great Hall.

"Danger in the Black Lake, huh?" Pansy muttered in rebellion. Draco knew how fond the young witch was of swimming. "Looks like that Giant Squid finally reproduced and that its young are carrying venom," she ironised.

"Why Pansy, you never did tell us!" Blaise exclaimed. "Congratulations seem to be in order!"

"Now listen here, you son of a-"

Draco tuned them out and left them to bicker on the bench as he followed his fellow housemates to the dungeons. When Pansy and Blaise ended their argument, he was long gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2.**

"This is Peter Brown," Albus Dumbledore said, extending a bony hand to the tall, thin, ageless man standing next to him. "He is a translator for the Ministry. One of the many languages Mr Brown speaks is Mermish."

The King Maeesh stared coldly at the Ministry employee, his silver-scaled tail flicking the water. Peter Brown- the uncle of Lavender Brown, a Hogwarts student- bowed his head in respect, but seemed unconcerned by the merman's hostility. He had been working at the Ministry since graduating from Hogwarts himself, twenty-six years prior, and had worked with many populations of magical creatures, such as merfolk, although it was the first time he met the inhabitants of the Black Lake- the negociations for the Triwizard Tournament a few years ago had been directly held between Maeesh and Barty Croupton Sr, once again with the Headmaster's intervention. Without him, the merpeople would never approach a Ministry employee.

"A translator," Maeesh spoke in his hissing tongue. "Well, translate this, Human. The disease is spreading. It took you nine days to get here and I have lost another twelve of my kin, including two of my sons."

Mr Brown seemed well-versed in the art of diplomacy with the merfolk, for he did not, as Albus hadn't, offer his condolences. Instead, he started writing on a pile of parchment in his arms, his short raven quill scratching noisily.

"Can you describe the symptoms, Your Majesty?"

Maeesh eyed him warily, but answered,

"Yes. The victims begin to tire, and then they complain of great pain within their bodies, and finally, if death has not claimed them before, they start necrosing alive. Their scales turn black, their arms rot, they stink of death while still screaming..."

Maeesh turned a haunted gaze to Albus Dumbledore, who was waiting politely.

"My four remaining wives are all ill. My kin will fall, Albus, and I fear that this time, there will be no saving for my people..."

The Headmaster didn't respond, watching Maeesh gravely.

"You told Headmaster Dumbledore that such illness has already stricken your kin in the past," Mr Brown declared softly. "What do the tales say?"

"The memories," Maeesh corrected with a stony glare, his yellow eyes narrowed in disgust, "speak of the same disease. Those stricken would fall rapidly ill and once afflicted, there was no hope of survival, as the disease spreads like fire in a forest."

"How did some of the merfolk survive the past two occurences?" Mr Brown interrogated, frowning slightly.

"In those days, things were different," Maeesh admitted with a tired glance, his rightful anger suddenly leaving him as he appeared defeated. "The fish living in the Black Lake were different, before they died out from their own diseases and evolution. The merfolk were frequently at war with the pike. Pike are deadly, just as our saltwater cousins must fare with sharks and whales, and the solution was found with some evidence. Those free of disease abandoned their homes, swam across the lake to find shelter, hoping the currents would not bring the plague, and abandoned the afflicted to their inevitable death. The pike ate those who carried the illness, and only after many moons did our ancestors return to their homes near the shore, only to repeat the effective solution when the curse returned several generations later."

Mr Brown stopped writing, quill poised.

"Would reintroducing pike into the lake be a solution?"

King Maeesh turned a fatigued gaze to Mr Brown, before raising a webbed, clenched fist.

"Look," he hissed.

Carefully, Mr Brown inched towards the merman, and seized his presented arm, the wet skin icy cold under his touch and slightly slippery.

Mr Brown frowned as he stared down at the brown tattoo representing a crown mounting a cruel-looking fish.

"The crown means I am King," Maeesh delivered one of his people's secrets with great unease. "I was elected as such by my people. The fish is a pike."

He ripped his arm from Mr Brown's grasp, as though the touch of a wizard was too much for him to bear, and turned away, gazing at the mountains capping the sky, far away, miles from the lake.

"Since the last of the pike was defeated by the legendary King Lammn, the rulers of my people have bore such a mark," he explained, fingers running over the tattoo. "It is a mark of absolute protection, claiming that we Kings may always protect our kin against those who would harm us." He glanced at Mr Brown with a shark-like grin that revealed his yellow, broken teeth. "Despite having their young and their parents dying in their arms, some of my kin almost rebelled against me for accepting to bring the Ministry into matters of our survival." He shrugged it off, and Mr Brown exchanged a glance with Albus. Merfolk were known cannibals, and such was the punishment reserved to those accused of conspiring against their ruler. "It saddened me greatly to reduce our numbers more so," Maeesh declared, confirming the two men's thoughts. "As King of the Selkie, I cannot bring pike back into the Black Lake. I vowed to protect my kin. How many more generations would be impacted by the return of the fish, bringing down our numbers as we are devoured by them, for the illness gone, the pike will remain? Before King Lammn killed the last pike, our numbers were barely enough for survival."

"But you yourself stated," Mr Brown pointed out, "that should the disease remain unchecked, the death of your entire race would be guaranteed."

"It is a possibility," Maeesh agreed, "although I have already arranged for several of our still healthy people to swim to the far borders of the lake and seek shelter there. I shall lead them come the early morning." He paused, contemplative. "I can only hope that, even with the absence of the pike, the epidemic will not reach us."

He nodded towards the two men who recognized the dismissal, and bowed low. When they raised their heads, King Maeesh was gone, the water once again still as though he had never been there.

"Well," Mr Brown muttered, pushing the parchment and quill back into his small bag, "one thing I do admire about the merfolk is their capacity to mistrust humans so much that they're willing to die out instead of asking for help."

Albus Dumbledore shrugged, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, as he and the Ministry employee strolled back towards the castle.

"You cannot blame them," he chuckled darkly. "The last Ministry employee they saw was Dolores Umbridge, and she wanted to capture them and tag them all like dolphins so that the Ministry could spy on them."

Mr Brown ticked in disgust at the mention of the pink Undersecretary.

"Will you have lunch with us, Peter?" Albus enquired politely.

"My, I must admit that although my wife cooks admirably, one can only miss Hogwarts meals," Mr Brown answered, and the two wizards entered the Great Hall, discussing the weather.

"Uncle Peter?"

Lavender Brown rose from the Gryffindor bench, her pretty blue eyes wide in pleasant surprise. She flicked a luscious blonde curl behind her shoulder as she bounced towards her uncle, engulfing him in a bear hug that made the three of them grin. Albus ascended towards the teacher's table, and Lavender grabbed her uncle's hands, squeezing them gently.

"What are you doing here, uncle?" she asked in her cristalline voice. Peter admired his niece, the one and only child born to six brothers. He himself had been quite content with his lot, despite his wife's sterility- he had never felt the need for children, although when he saw his precious Lavender, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge to the heart.

"Communicating with the merfolk on behalf of the Ministry," he merely explained. "The Headmaster invited me to lunch, then I shall be returning to work."

…

Hermione glanced at the man hugging Lavender, then returned to her conversation with Harry.

"I still don't understand why you insist on Divination," she maintained, buttering a piece of bread before popping it into her mouth. "Load of bull."

"Well, yeah, but I don't have the level for Arithmancy," Harry reminded her with a grin, his hand on Ginny's. "And I need a certain number of ASPICS to become an Auror, remember?"

"You'd have the level if you cared for it," Hermione muttered, shaking her head, but Harry heard her.

"Divination is still a load more fun," he proclaimed, spearing a piece of meat with his fork. "Why concentrate on ligns of numbers when I can make up stuff about Seamus' imminent death and get rewarded with an O?"

"Oi!" Seamus Finnegan yelled from several seats down the table. "I'm 'ere, ya wanker!"

Ron, Ginny and Harry exploded with laughter and Hermione shook her head, grinning slightly as she finished her pumpkin juice, while Harry and Seamus began a playful banter. Ginny turned to her with a sigh, her beautiful porcelain face scrunched up in an amused expression.

"Boys," she muttered to the brunette who nodded in agreement.

"Boys," she returned calmly before stretching, her stomach full. "Look, I've got to go to the library-"

"Or Hermione's death," Harry joked before a mocking mysterious aura overcame his traits. "Why yes, professor, Pluto's alignment with Neptune's moons announces the terrible fate that shall overcome my dear friend Hermione, who will soon perish smothered by a stack of books at the library..."

Hermione's mouth opened as she stared at the bespectacled boy, their peers howling with laughter.

"Harry James Potter, you did not just joke about my death!"

"Try this," Ginny chuckled, thumping her brother's back with her fist as he choked on a mouthful of curry, tears of mirth streaming from his bright blue eyes: "Yes of course, professor Trelawney, I see Harry's death in the shape of these tea leaves right here. He will be murdered by a furious female..."

Even Hermione smiled at that, before shaking her head and waving them off as she left the Great Hall. She ascended the moving staircases slowly, taking her time, well conscious that this was her last year at the school. So many things she had taken for granted, she thought, and yet...all of this would soon be but a fond memory. If she had children one day, they would walk these halls, sleep under this roof for seven years as well. They may even share the same professors as their mother...they would be able to remind her of details concerning the school she had long forgot...feeling homesick while being in the castle wouldn't do her any good, but Hermione let her mind wander to the after-Hogwarts. She still wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but she knew one thing: she aimed high, very high. She remembered Harry and Ron's surprise when she'd declared that she didn't know what she wanted to do after Hogwarts. They had thought that she'd have a very well set out path for her future: at seventeen, integrate the Ministry, at twenty-five, be Head of Department, at thirty be Minister for Magic. And yet, a political career didn't appeal to her, although she admitted that it would be nice to inspire change. The wizarding world remained too traditional to her liking, and not in the good sense of the word- Hermione considered herself to be traditional and old-school, believing in honor and duty, believing in eternal romantic love between a married couple, believing in all those little things that seemed to die out over time, manners and chivalry and fighting for what was right. She didn't, however, appreciate the inequalities in her hidden world: the fact that Muggleborns were treated, even unto law, as lesser witches and wizards than Purebloods, or the fact that magical beings such as House Elves, vampires or werewolves were forbidden from using wand magic, were unsettling things to her, probably because she was a Muggleborn herself. She considered herself lucky to be a witch, lucky to be born of Muggle parents, lucky to have the best of both worlds. Blood purity was tosh, in her opinion: look at the infamous Gaunt family, whose last descendant had been a crazed, power-loving psychopath. And look at her. Lord Voldemort may have been dead for almost sixteen years, she knew that his ideals hadn't died with him: although many of his followers purred like contented kittens in the public eye, she could only imagine what they spoke of behind closed doors. Draco Malfoy, for example, was a babe when Voldemort was defeated, by far too young to appreciate the man's ideals and philosophy: his ingrained hatred of anything of lesser status than himself had been taught to him by his hateful parents, and she could only shiver imagining the conversations the boy must have heard in his home to end up showing such intense discrimination. It went far beyond a heir way too rich to care about others.

As if thinking of the Devil summoned him, she spotted Malfoy as she walked through the last corridor towards the library. He was alone, his favored guard dogs probably stuffing their faces down in the Great Hall, and he seemed to exit the library himself. His face scrunched up in disgust when he saw her.

"Merlin, Granger, can't you _read_?"

She merely raised a brow, unconcerned at his tone of voice.

"Read what?"

"Surely you passed the sign at the other end of the corridor saying this castle was forbidden to Mudbloods, right?"

Her jaw clenched as she stopped in front of him, eyeing him with as much disgust as he showed her.

"Ah, so that's what it said," she gasped, eyes lighting up in realisation. "Sorry I couldn't translate, it was written in ferret."

He blanched, eyes narrowed, and took a threatening step forward. Hermione simply stared at him, unimpressed.

"Merlin, you're ugly," he exclaimed as he stared back in contemplation. "You'd think that Mudbloods were good for at least one thing, but it turns out that in your case, you couldn't even manage that."

"I'm ugly?" she retorted, ignoring the pinch in her chest at his words- despite it being Malfoy, it hurt somewhere, deep down. No girl wanted to hear that she was ugly, and, well- it was a remark she'd made to herself when Ron had chosen beautiful Lavender over her. "At least I don't look like I lost the inbreeding jackpot, you twitchy freak."

He sneered down his nose at her, and Hermione suddenly realised how tall he was- almost as tall as Ron.

"You're a cunt, Granger," he spat, and she gasped in earnest this time. Never, never had Malfoy used such a word in regards to her- in fact, she'd never heard him swear before. Even when dealing with her or her friends, his vocabulary was extended enough for him to never stoop that low- Malfoys, being the Pureblood elitists they were, certainly believed that such foul language was beneath them. However, she straightened her back, and answered,

"Yeah, but I'm ugly, remember? That's what you said. And girls don't really appreciate that, Malfoy, so there's no way in hell you're getting into this cunt."

Rude for rude, she barged past him, furious, and slammed the door to the library shut.

…

Draco remained in the corridor, staring after Granger as she stormed off, shocked to the core. Did she just...? Yeah, she did. That freaking _bitch_.

He left the corridor without being able to keep a smirk from overcoming his lips. Granger's one redeeming quality- the one and only quality she had in his eyes, quite frankly- was her ability to match his scorn to the perfection. And although he hated it when the little Mudblood talked back to her betters, she never failed to amuse him, even if the feeling was weak- she was way more entertaining to insult than Potter in that regard. He didn't even think of Weasley- the ginger tumor had about as much banter as a rabbit, and was as quick as a mountain troll.

He'd shocked her by using such language- he knew it. She'd been furious and, for once, profoundly insulted- good. He hadn't expected her comback with the same weapon he'd used against her, though- it was an interesting development.

His growling stomach reminded him that he hadn't had lunch yet, and he pushed the crazy-haired Mudblood from his mind as he descended the stairs to the Great Hall.

…

Peter Brown set his jacket on the back of his favorite plush armchair as he heard his Muggle wife, Mary Brown, potter about in the kitchen. The woman's kind face appeared in the doorway, and she grinned.

"Hello, love. Have a nice day?"

"Exhausting," the wizard declared, stretching as his muscles protested.

"Well, I've made your favorite pot roast," Mary declared, coming forward to kiss his cheek. "Dinner will be ready in ten."

The migraine that had been threatening Peter for a few hours finally obscured his vision and he winced.

"Sorry, love, but I'm afraid I'm off to bed," he announced, caressing her cheek. "I'm really tired, and I've got a killer headache."

"Oh," Mary said. "Well then, off you go. I'll bring you some ice and I'll keep you a portion of dinner in case you feel better in a little while."

"Thank you, darling," he crooned, before slowly making his way towards the bedroom where he lay in silence, his migraine getting worser by the minute.

...

 **Please RAR. Thanks for your support!**

 **DIL.**


	3. Chapter 3

…...

CHAPTER 3

Hermione had a small, satisfied smile on her lips as she entered her dorm room that evening. Her afternoon at the library- despite the little run-in with the blond threat- had been highly productive, and she felt the tiredness seep through her bones, the tiredness of one who has spent a great deal of time achieving their goals.

She was cut short in her self-congratulations when she heard a muffled sob. Her head snapped to the right, and she noticed Lavender Brown, lying on her bed, arms cradling her head.

"Lavender?" she asked with caution. "Lavender, are you all right?"

"Damn it," the beautiful blonde witch winced. "Turn off the light!"

Hermione frowned but obeyed, dulling the lights with a flick of her wand, and she approached her classmate slowly.

"Lavender, what's going on?"

She didn't dare touch the girl: Lavender and her had never been close, especially after the whole ordeal with Ron, and she worried her lip.

"Do you need me to fetch Parvati?"

The young witch moaned in obvious pain, and Hermione felt a spark of alarm.

"My head," she gasped, "it's hurting so _much_..."

"I'll fetch Madam Pomfrey," Hermione soothed before hurrying out of the room and crossing the Common Room at full speed. She spotted Parvati Patil- who was currently flirting with a sixth-year- across the room.

"Parvati," she yelled, "Lavender's unwell. She's in bed. I'm fetching the nurse."

Parvati leveled a worried glance at her and shot up the stairs, ignoring the boy's surprise, as Hermione left the room and began trotting down the corridors to the Hospital Wing.

…

"How is she?"

Parvati sighed, rubbing her reddened eyes as she stirred her porridge.

"I don't know," she admitted, stifling a yawn. "Madam Pomfrey retrieved her from the room, and then forbade me from entering the Hospital Wing."

Hermione nodded and returned to her own breakfast. She didn't bother giving Parvati words of reassurance concerning her friend's well-being, as Padma Patil, the Indian girl's twin, had hurried over from the Ravenclaw table to sit near her sister that morning.

"Potions," Ron suddenly spat, sitting on the bench opposite her with a loud thump. "With the Slytherins. Four. Bloody. Hours." His eyes narrowed. "I need bacon. Lots of it."

The curly-haired witch rolled her eyes at her friend.

"Good morning to you too, Ron," she muttered as the redhead pulled a dish full of bacon towards him and began ladeling it onto his plate as though threatened with famine.

"Oh, by the way," Ron frowned, glancing up at her, "what's this with Lavender? Heard she fell sick last night. Is she better?"

Hermione quietly assessed her friend for a moment. The circumstances of his break-up with Lavender remained unclear, although the possessive, borderline idiotic behaviour the blonde witch had displayed during her relationship with him had probably held a huge role. As such, Hermione could never really tell if her old flame still held feelings for his ex-girlfriend.

"She had a big migraine," she answered finally, as Ron stared expectantly at her. "Madam Pomfrey whisked her off to the Hospital Wing, but I'm sure she'll be fine. There's nothing our nurse cannot heal, is there?"

Ron chewed on his mouthful thoughtfully.

"True," he finally answered with faith, and the two of them began gloomily discussing their Potions class to come with the Slytherins and the infamous Professor Snape.

…

The portly witch's head snapped around as the double doors slammed open and her expected visitor entered the room.

"Took you long enough, Albus!"

The Headmaster almost stopped mid-stride. Madam Pomfrey was a demure lady, and rarely _snapped_ at people. It only happened when she was worried, and if his suspicions were correct, the woman had every right to be so.

"Please forgive my tardiness, Poppy," he answered, glancing over the rim of his glasses at the witch who was wringing her hands and had obviously been pacing before his arrival. "I was at Saint Mungo's."

"Well you can return there, then," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, hands on her hips. "And fetch me a Senior Healer! I don't know what to make of this."

The Headmaster's expression morphed from his typical politeness to one of grave attention.

"Please tell me, Poppy..."

"Miss Granger ran in here last evening claiming that Miss Brown was unwell," she answered shortly. "I retrieved the girl from her bed. She was complaining of a highly painful headache, and when I levitated her she passed out. She has not been cursed, and the standard testing methods have revealed nothing of interest. She awoke briefly during the night, and immediately fainted again from the pain- the short time she was awake, she was _screaming_. I ran a battery of tests, and the results are alarming. Aside from a very high fever, she is suffering from internal bleeding in her head and in her torso. I have naturally stopped the bleeding, but not without struggle..."

"Aside from yourself and Miss Granger, has anyone else come in contact with her since she began complaining of migraines?"

"Miss Patil, the Gryffindor one, who was mopping her brow when I arrived," Poppy answered. "Although I do not believe that Miss Granger actually had physical contact of any kind with Miss Brown."

"I know that you are held to secrecy, Poppy, but I demand a truthful answer," Albus asked, eyes glinting. "Has Miss Brown ever confided to having a lover?"

"I believe that Miss Brown has had several over the course of the past couple of years," Poppy sniffed disdainfully at the question. "But this is not an STD, Albus, I have never seen anything quite like it- from all accounts, she was well when she went to bed last evening. People don't just begin bleeding internally from one second to the next!"

"I do not believe it to be an STD, Poppy. I'm merely trying to guess who may have approached Miss Brown over the course of the past twenty-four hours," the Headmaster explained, visibly tense. "As it happens, I was called out of bed at the early hours by a Saint Mungo's Senior Healer who had just admitted Mr Peter Brown into intensive care there. Mr Brown is young Lavender's uncle, who was visiting Hogwarts yesterday for Ministry business and exchanged a hug with his niece. He is suffering from the exact same symptoms as she is. The Healers don't know what to make of the case, and are very prudent as to establish a diagnosis. In any case, it would seem that this illness is passed on through contact, so I would advise you to be extremely careful manipulating Miss Brown."

"For Merlin's sake, Albus, there is something you're not telling me," she grunted, staring at him through wide brown eyes.

"The merfolk of the Black Lake have been afflicted with a similar disease that is killing them in droves," he answered after a while. "Mr Brown visited with them and I yesterday on the Ministry's behalf- he touched one of them who seemed clear of any illness. However, if my theory is correct, the merman in question must, himself, be very ill by now, if not dead."

"Merlin," Poppy breathed. "Did the merfolk explain what happens next?"

Albus nodded gravely, features haunted.

"I shall send Miss Granger, Miss Patil, and a number of students and staff who may be suspected of having had physical contact with either Mr or Miss Brown over the past day," he offered. "You will monitor them carefully for the next few hours. I will contact Saint Mungo's immediately and have them send over a couple of Healers."

Poppy Pomfrey nodded, reduced to silence, as the Headmaster bowed curtly and left the room.

…

"Another year, a final year of standing such bumbling dunderheads," Snape's voice rang out distastefully in lieu of a greeting as he glided amongst the silent students, his black cape billowing behind him like bat wings. "Despite having the most advanced knowledge at your fingertips, you lot are barely capable of brewing a soup without committing four people to the Hospital Wing per session." He stopped and whipped around on his heel to stare at Neville, his lip curling in disgust. "A great many of you shall fail your ASPICS, and I cannot say those who shall pass will do so with stellar results." Hermione felt outraged as his dark gaze fell on her, but bit her lip to keep herself from retorting. "However," Snape continued, striding towards his desk, "it will not be said that I did not impart the best of my knowledge to you. Divide yourselves into pairs as you see fit, and try not to kill each other. Longbottom, with Granger, or Merlin knows we'll be dining in Hell tonight, the whole lot of us."

Hermione smiled softly as Neville pulled his stool towards her, worry marring his face.

"Don't worry," she muttered, "we're going to manage this. How about you-"

She never finished that sentence, as a sharp knocking was heard on the door.

"Come in," Snape spat, and the door opened to reveal none other than Albus Dumbledore. Hermione's brows shot up: the Headmaster never visited the classes, and his wary expression instantly alarmed her. She turned around to shoot a glance at Harry behind her, partnered with Ron, and noticed that he was staring at the Headmaster as well, frowning.

"Forgive my interruption, Severus," the Headmaster bowed his head slightly, "but I will need to have all seventh year Gryffindor students follow me to the Hospital Wing at once. I will be needing you as well, Severus, so class is dismissed."

Hermione ignored the Slytherins who were quietly processing the news with great enthousiasm perspiring from every part of their slimy bodies, and stood, picking up her bag as she and her fellow housemates left the room in the Headmaster's stead, each one of them eerily silent.

…

Snape threatened the remaining students into submission, reminding them of what exactly would happen should they fail to hand in their homework, and exited the classroom after Dumbledore and his pet lions. Draco stared at the empty door frame, one brow raised, as the Slytherins slowly exited the classroom, hardly believing their luck.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Blaise commented, frowning.

"I suspect Dumblebeard's trafficking in young kids now," Pansy answered before adding with a twisted smirk, "a bit like your mother, Zabini."

"And have you ever heard, Parkinslut, about the way I traffick in illegal poisons?" the wizard returned with a snarl. "Kill you with my own hands, you little-"

"You're the one to talk about little," Pansy snarked, miming the size of his appendage with her thumb and index finger as close as they could get without touching.

Draco tuned them out once again as they launched a full-blown argument, the three of them walking out of the classroom, and his mind once again turned to the Gryffindors. What had warrented their entire year to exit the dungeons? What had they done? Draco could only hope the result would be a few painful months of detention, especially for the three leaders of the bunch.

"Shut up, the both of you," he snapped as Blaise was grossly imitating what Pansy should do to herself using a kitchen knife, "and follow me."

"Do you think I'm your dog?" Blaise grumbled as he and Pansy nevertheless fell into step.

"Where are we going?" Pansy groaned. "I want to go back to the dungeons. I have homework."

At the incredulous look the two boys shot her, she shrugged.

"All right, I don't plan to do any homework. Well, unless practicing black magic is considered homework."

Draco rolled his eyes as the three classmates began ascending the main stairs.

"We're going to sneak a peak into the Hospital Wing," he announced matter-of-factly. "I want to know exactly what kind of group STD the Gryffondors have."

The other two perked up at that, and Pansy sighed dramatically,

"Ah, I always knew there was a reason for Weasel King's orange ugliness. Now he's gone and infected everyone else."

They stepped into the corridor where the large wood doors to the Hospital Wing stood, and immediately stopped walking. Guarding the doors were four Healers In Training, wearing their traditional pale yellow robes, wands drawn. Alongside them were two Aurors.

"What the fuck," Blaise hissed as they slowly backed out of the corridor, "is going on here?"

Draco nodded in silent agreement. Whatever the Gryffondors were up to- it wasn't good.


End file.
